A Short Misspent Life
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: A floater is discovered in Lake Mead, Grissom and Sara investigate. Each week CSIPrompts issued a set of prompts, with each chapter I incorporated those prompts into the story. Story is now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** A Short Misspent Life

**AUTHOR:** Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR

**PAIRING:** G/S

**RATING:** PG

**SUMMARY:** A floater is discovered in Lake Mead

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm just playing with them.

**NOTES: Csiprompts weekly challenge: Topic: April Showers. ****Must start with the line:** Looking up at the bleak sky, she said, "I realize it's spring, but I don't think I've ever seen it rain this much before." **Random Prompts (Use or Don't Use - it's up to you):** Ice cream, tennis balls, a floater in Lake Mead, redneck truck driver, wireless broadband connection, skateboard.

**SPOILERS:** Every show aired in the U.S. to date.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

**Looking up at the bleak sky, she said, "I realize it's spring, but I don't think I've ever seen it rain this much before."**

"It has been unseasonably wet this spring," Grissom replied. He thought Sara looked 'cute' in her foul weather gear with her hair up in a pony tail covered by her black LVMPD baseball cap; he was dressed the same: rain slickers over his clothing, and heavy hip waders.

They had completed their work on the **floater in Lake Mead**, securing the limited evidence they had found on the body. Any other evidence the lake had taken away. The male body was severely bloated after exposure to the elements for several days. David Phillips had pulled the body out of the water, pronounced death and placed it onto a tarp like coroner's bag as Grissom and Sara had taken over the examination.

They had found some identification in the back pocket with a driver's license proclaiming the man: Duncan Green, 19, of Pensacola, Florida. The young man's weight was listed as 120 pounds, but with the bloating, he was well over 250 pounds.

Grissom flipped through the wallet that bore the word 'Emerica', wondering out loud what that stood for, David quickly answered, "Oh, it's a **skateboard **company with it's own line of clothing and other merchandise."

The lead CSI looked at the coroner's assistant over the tops of his glasses, smirking. "Skateboard companies produce clothing? Rapper's produce clothing lines? What's next? The well-dressed coroner's line?"

The small group of police officer's, CSI's and coroner's laughed at Grissom's warped sense of humor.

The weather had changed from cloudy and dreary to sunny and bright in the two hours the two CSI's had been at the crime scene and both has sloughed off their bad weather slickers.

David had taken the body to the morgue. The detective in charge of the case had left the scene to attempt to contact the family of the deceased. The uniformed police officers were milling about waiting for the two CSI's to complete their investigation. Sara Sidle-Grissom was busy with taking water samples from the lake and Gil Grissom was busy checking out his wife's ass as she bent over in intense concentration.

He licked his lips and said, "Sara, what do you say about stopping for some **ice cream **on the way back in to the crime lab?"

Sara stood up, stretched out her tense muscles, her bulging stomach sent a surge of pride through him.

"Gil, honey, you must have read my mind."

* * *

They were traveling west on State Highway 573 when Sara saw a billboard for a Dairy Queen on North Tenaya Way, only a mile in the distance. "Can we stop there?" She purred.

"A Dairy Queen?" He puzzled, "You usually want 'Ben and Jerry's. What's up?"

"Nothing, just DQ has the best soft serve. Please stop, there it is, up there on the right. See it?"

"Yes dear."

While waiting behind a car in the drive through line of the Dairy Queen, Grissom noticed a sign on the building proclaiming "Free **Wireless Broadband Connection **Inside."

When they arrived at the window, Sara greedily grabbed the cone from his hand as the clerk took his money to pay for her treat. He began to pull out slowly, then Grissom braked the Denali unexpectedly as they were pulling out of the drive through line as an old woman on a walker with wheels in the front and yellow **tennis balls **in the back walked out in front of them.

Sara was hungrily attacking her chocolate dipped cone and as the vehicle halted, the cone smashed into her nose.

Grissom smiled and waved to the woman wearing a bright pink t-shirt bearing the phrase: "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" giving her right of way. The woman flipped Grissom the bird. Sara burst into laughter.

Gil followed soon when he noticed the ice cream on Sara's nose and the expression on her face was priceless.

* * *

"The father of the victim is Harry Green, 45 of Pensacola Florida. He and the victim were traveling together. Harry is a big time **redneck truck driver,** who hauls Dole bananas. Said his son was a skateboarder and he dropped him off at the skate park on Lake Mead Blvd three days ago. Harry hasn't seen Duncan since. Harry doesn't know how the boy ended up in Lake Mead." The sound of Brass' voice droned on, "The Green's were staying at the Motel 6 way off strip. Seems Harry's been drunk and whoring for three straight days. He didn't miss his son."

"Sad." Sara intently studied the floor tiles of Jim Brass' office.

"Yeah, I went to the skate park and they have a signed waiver by Duncan absolving the park of any bodily damages incurred on their property. After that, there is absolutely no trace of Duncan until his body was discovered last night. What did Doc Robbins say?"

"Nothing yet, hasn't done the autopsy yet." Sara replied.

"Well, looks like we're stumped for a while until we have cause of death." Brass looked at the woman sitting before him. "When are you taking your leave?"

"Oh, in about another week or so. Gil, Jr. is getting rather heavy to carry around to all these crime scenes." She smiled.

"Yeah, when my ex was pregnant with Ellie, she complained about that all the time. And I felt guilty at the time for putting her in that position, well turns out I didn't, but she was a wonderful little girl." His smile was sad. "I sincerely hope your child has a better fate than did our victim or Ellie."

Brass frowned as he sipped his coffee.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 2: **Must start with the line:** Grabbing a box, he tipped it over and dumped everything on the table. _Well, this is what I get for waiting until April 15th_, he thought, and heaved out a long sigh. **Topic:** Taxes **Random Prompts (Use or don't use - up to you):** birthday cake, lighter, ambulance, nervous breakdown.

A/N 2: The Sunrise Manor Skatepark is on Lake Mead Blvd in Las Vegas is real or it was when I googled it. I have a little first to second hand knowledge of skateboarding: My youngest son has been obsessed with skateboarding for about five years, so I have a pretty good grasp on the subject…lol.

A/N 3: The 'walking CSI encyclopedia', BeckyCSI, had no clue when I asked her about Hodges' birthday, so between us, we gave him one. Everyone in the US hates the tax deadline, so what better day for his birthday? (evil grin: muah, hahaha!)

A/N 4: Thanks to Angsty for helping me clarify tax information in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

**Grabbing a box, he tipped it over and dumped everything on the table. **_**Well, this is what I get for waiting until April 15th**_**, he thought, and heaved out a long sigh. **

__

This is going to be a nightmare. I've always filed single. Now, my filing status is married. I have to factor in all of Sara's earnings and interest. Hmmmm, at least she only has one W-2 as compared to my five.

Grissom looked over his several W-2's: Las Vegas Metro Crime Lab, his normal job; Williams College, where he spent a month teaching the previous January and February; Scientific Publishing Company, residuals from his editing of several entomological textbooks; the Forensic Academy for several speaking engagements he'd performed over the course of this past year; and the last one from the FBI for his continued work at the body farm.

__

With the interest from our various savings accounts combined and then the sale of the other townhouse, plus the fees from cashing out several stocks in order to buy the new furniture. I do love that Eames lounge chair. We're going to owe Uncle Sam big time. Good thing most of our savings are in IRA's.

He heard Sara's cell phone ring and debated whether to answer it. She had taken Bruno for a walk only minutes before he'd begun this arduous task of preparing their tax forms. He picked up the phone and answered with his usual gruff:

"Grissom."

"Oh, hi Gil. It's Al. I was calling for Sara, but since I got you instead, you'll do."

"What's up?" Grissom questioned the nightshift coroner.

"The floater from Lake Mead. I have the autopsy results. Do you want me to tell you the results on the phone or would you rather hear them in person?"

"I'm off tonight. Sara is in charge of the investigation. She's not here right now, but she'll be at work when her shift starts. Anything interesting on young Mr. Green?" Although Grissom wasn't working tonight, he had still processed the scene and his curiosity was peaked.

"Massive blunt force head trauma," the sound of Dr. Robbins voice continued, "to the right parietal and right temporal lobes. Something like a baseball bat hit him."

"I'll relay that information to Sara when she returns. Anything else?" Grissom wondered.

"I'll see her tonight." Robbins paused for a moment and then added, "What are you doing with your night off?"

"Having a **nervous breakdown**," Gil replied dryly.

"What do you mean?" Al sounded worried.

Laughing slightly, Gil responded, "I'm doing our taxes tonight. Wish me luck."

He began to look at the pile of income tax statements after he mashed the 'end' button on Sara's phone: one pile for the federal return; one pile for the Nevada state income tax; a smaller pile for Massachusetts state income tax; and another three other smaller piles for the different states he'd had speaking engagements.

__

I wish I'd thought to hire an accountant, but it's too late now. I have until midnight to get all this in the mail. I have to allow for travel to the post office, so I need to be done by 11:00. It's 7:30, now, so that leaves me three and a half hours. I better get to work.

He took a deep breath and began prepare the easiest ones first.

* * *

Sara entered the morgue wearing a long blue lab coat over her street clothes. She saw that Doc Robbins was busy with another body, but he stopped when he saw her.

"Good evening, Sara."

"Hi Doc. Did you find anything other than what you told Gil on Duncan Green?" She walked over to his work station and began flipping through a file bearing the name of the victim.

"My findings are all in there," he pointed to the file she held in her hand. "But other than the two most important facts: the young man had been in the lake for three days and he had a severe head trauma, I can't tell you much more. Blood samples have gone to Tox, but with the infusion of the lake water, it might be hard to narrow anything down if there were drugs in his system."

"So someone probably knocked him over the head, killing him instantly and threw his body into the lake. They didn't rob him, so that wasn't the motive. He had about 47 dollars in his wallet and one ATM card for a bank out of Florida." Sara concluded as she watched Robbins skillfully cut through the breast plate of the deceased in his table. "I'm going to check out the skatepark."

"See you later, Sara and be careful out there."

* * *

No one was in the break room when Sara entered the room for a quick cup of coffee before heading out to question the owners and employees of Sunrise Manor Skatepark.

There were remnants of a **birthday cake **in the break room, candles in shapes of a '2' and a '4'. She was unsure who was celebrating their birthday. She couldn't think of more one person who may be '24', but thought of several who could be '42'.

She noticed a red bic **lighter** laying beside the cake's clear plastic cover. The safety officer of the lab would go crazy if he found this lighter abandoned such as it was.

After all, the lab had blown up once: she knew. She had been injured by the blast. Luckily for her and the others in the lab, Greg Sanders, when he'd been the DNA tech, was the only one who required an **ambulance **ride to the hospital. His injuries were bad: second and third degree burns to his neck and back. Jacqui Franco, the excellent fingerprint specialist, who now worked days, had a cut to her forehead and Sara had gashes on her forehead, cheek and left palm from the unintentional blast caused by a unattended heat source and unknown chemical left in close proximity to each other.

She wondered where the safety officer was so she could report this to him; when in he walked.

David Hodges practically bounded into the room. When he saw the pregnant CSI, his eyes lit up. She was the wife of his boss, so he knew whose butt to kiss.

"Sara, did you get some of my birthday cake?"

She looked at the few scrapings of frosting and crumbs. "No I didn't, but I'm sure it was good."

"My mother sent it to me. She loves her little 'Davy-boy'." Hodges slightly reddened under Sara's gaze.

"Hey, someone left that lighter on the table. That's a safety hazard." She said, straight to the point.

"Yeah, I borrowed it from one of the day shift lab techs so I could light my candles; then I guess I forgot to return to her." Hodges said as he quickly scooped up the bic lighter and shoved it into his pants pocket.

Sara was about to exit the room when something occurred to her, "Wait a minute," Sara said, "you mean to tell me your birthday is April 15th? Oh, what an awful day to be born on."

"Most everyone forgets it, because they are busy doing their taxes at the last minute." David replied.

"Well, happy birthday, Hodges." Sara said as an afterthought as she left the break room with her coffee.

David Hodges positively beamed for the rest of the night.

* * *

The skatepark was loud: the blaring music of Prodigy over the loud speaker, the unmistakable sounds of the skateboards grinding against concrete and the occasional grunt or scream of pain when someone wiped out .

Sara was unused to the clamor. She made her way into the enclosed air conditioned skateshop where a dark haired young man of about twenty was laying on a couch apparently sleeping as his eyes were closed when she cleared her throat to get his attention. The television in the corner of the shop was on showing skateboarding videos.

He sat up quickly and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm from the Crime Lab and I was wondering if you remembered seeing this guy," she held an autopsy photo of Duncan Green for his inspection. "He was reported here on Friday."

"I already talked to the cops about this. I told him that I didn't remember him, but I showed the old guy his waiver and he paid his fees with cash, so home-boy must've been here." The clerk had a name tag attached to his shirt which read: Employee of the Month.

"How do you know he paid with cash? And what exactly did he pay for?" Sara questioned.

The young man stood up, revealing his lanky 6'2" frame and went to the filing cabinet. He shuffled around inside for a few minutes before removing two sheets of paper. "This is Duncan Green's signed waiver form. We make everyone do it that skates here. It says essentially that we're not liable for injurie; they are. Blood and guts is what skating is all about. Now, this is second receipt that I didn't show to the cop, because he didn't ask for it." He handed the paper to Sara.

Sara read over the receipt: Duncan had paid in cash for his admittance to the park, rental fees for a helmet and pads, also he bought a new 8.94 x 32 Ali Boulala pink 'Flip' deck, 'Tensor' trucks, a set of four 'Ricta' wheels and neon pink grip tape. But the fact the stood out the most in Sara's mind was the innocuous date: April 9th, 2008.

Sara's mind was spinning: the father had said he had dropped Duncan off on the 11th.

"How does a kid on a skateboard get from here on Lake Mead Boulevard to being found dead in the water at Overton Beach, which is about 40 miles away?"

"Lady, I don't know."

**TO BE CONTINUED**

a sort of cliff hanger, from me? evilness abounds. LOL


	3. Chapter 3

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 3: **Must start with the line:** "Hey, I've got two tickets to see Monty Python's Spamalot. Care to join me?" **Topic:** Medieval Comedy; **Random Prompts (use or don't use - it's up to you):** Rubber fish, bucket of water, jello, and bubble bath.

A/N 2: Updates will be either on Sundays or Mondays because the prompts are released every Sunday and I don't write until I have the prompts. Thank you to **csigeekfan** for the prompts. And thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. And hopefully the info on _Monty Python's Spamalot_ from Wikipedia was correct, if not, blame Wiki, not me…LOL.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

**"Hey, I've got two tickets to see **_**Monty Python's Spamalot**_**. Care to join me?" **

"No, Gil and I went opening night at the Wynn's Grail Theater a couple of weeks ago." Sara replied.

"Grissom likes Monty Python?" Greg Sanders' eyes were wide in question, as Sara nodded 'yes' to his question.

"How did you guys get tickets? These tickets that I have were the earliest I could get and the show has been going on for two and a half weeks." Greg asked excitedly.

"Well, Gil ordered them online while he was eating cherry **Jell-O** and I was in the bathtub taking a **bubble bath**." Sara smiled at Greg's incredulous look her way.

"TMI, Sar, TMI." He was laughing before he continued, "So, who was your favorite character in the play?"

Sara considered his question and responded, "Sir Bedevere."

Greg's confusion was evident: "Who?"

"He reminds me a lot of you. He is the wise, but smelly knight." Sara looked at Greg's appearance, obliviously he'd been dumpster diving with a few decomps. "Lemons, Greg. Use lemons when you shower and you are on your way to the locker room to bathe aren't you?"

Greg sent her a smirk on his way to the showers. Sara made her way through the halls of Las Vegas' Crime Lab.

"Hey, Sara?" The sound of the feminine voice caught her attention as she was making way toward the layout room to go over further evidence from the Green case. The teenager's body had been found floating in Lake Mead three days ago. Sara was still no closer to discovering what had happened to him than when David had pulled the body out of the water. There was many inconsistencies with the father's story and the evidence.

"Yeah?" Sara looked around trying to determine who had called her name, she had thought it was Wendy's, but maybe it had been Mandy's.

"Hey, girl." The woman's voice came out of the fingerprint lab.

When Sara saw who it was, she exclaimed: "Jacqui! What are you doing here?"

The woman looked at Sara like she'd sprouted an extra head. "Uhm, Sara, in case you didn't get the memo, I work here. I'm doing a night rotation while Mandy is on vacation for the week." Jacqui Franco laughed.

"Those fingerprints in the Green case from the hotel room: hits on all of them. Harry Green's prints were everywhere; he's in the system for a 1977 conviction in Florida for distribution of a controlled substance. Duncan Green's prints were only on the suitcase, none in the hotel room itself. Now, here's the fun part: there is a total of five different sets of prints all over the room that came back through CODIS. Sarah LaRue, Jayne Landers, Britney Jones, Ka'Ne'Sha Howard, and Alicia King. All working girls, with convictions for first one thing and another."

"That's a lot of working girls," Sara frowned, "but Harry did say he'd spent his time "drinking and whoring" after he dropped Duncan off at the skatepark until Brass' people knocked on his hotel door. So, I guess he had use for more than one woman. Are any of them currently in jail, per chance?"

Jacqui removed her glasses from her nose. "Yes, Ka'Ne'Sha on a drug charge and Britney on a charge of attempting to sell stolen property." She held the light-weight lens in her hand for a moment before pointed them at Sara. "You are sounding more and more like Grissom everyday. When's the due date?"

"May 21st. Gil Jr. here is definitely going to be an athlete; his kicks are getting more powerful by the day," Sara said proudly.

Jacqui lifted her eyebrows slightly and asked a silent question. Sara silently replied nodded her head, as Jacqui rubbed Sara's prominent stomach, feeling for herself the baby's movements. While Jacqui appeared to be somewhat wary, Sara had gotten used to people wanting to touch her stomach. It had bothered her for a time, but since the boy was kicking so much, she enjoyed other's sharing the wonderful signs of life.

"I guess nobody threw a **bucket of water **on the two of you when you were on the honeymoon, did they?"

Sara looked flabbergasted. "What?"

"The honeymoon was hot, huh?" Sara turned red. Jacqui continued, as she put her glasses back on, "Well, there is an old wives tale that says if you throw a bucket of water on the couple after they get married, then they won't conceive. But there is also the ancient medieval tradition of throwing rice on a couple after they tie the knot to ensure fertility." Jacqui smiled at Sara.

Sara laughed at her statement, "Did you tell this story to Greg? Because I swear, all the guys dumped tons of rice on us when we left the church."

"So, it's not Grissom's fault you're pregnant? It's Greg's?" Jacqui deadpanned as she looked over her glasses at Sara.

Both women erupted in laughter.

* * *

Ka'Ne'Sha Howard was sitting in the interrogation room drumming her long red carefully manicured nails along the opaque surface of the table, looking positively bored.

Captain Jim Brass entered the room briskly, slamming the door behind him. Sara Sidle-Grissom stood behind the two way mirror, awaiting the questioning to begin.

"Hi Ka'Ne'Sha. I'm Jim." Brass began.

"No, Jim, I'm not giving you a freebie," Ms. Howard frowned in his direction.

Brass smiled. He liked this girl. "I wasn't asking. Your fingerprints are all over a hotel room."

"No surprise there, Jim. I'm in a lot of hotel rooms." The hooker replied, staring at her nails, picking at some non-existent particle from beneath the length of her index finger.

"No surprise there, Ka'Ne'Sha," Jim slammed his hand down on the table to get her attention. "Listen, chick, I need some info on a 'John' you had: redneck trucker kinda fella, last week at the Motel 6."

"Redneck trucker? Musta been that guy Harry. He was hung like a horse. Me and LaRue and Jaynnie went to his room and he satisfied us all." The woman winked at Brass.

"Any other guys there beside Harry?" Brass questioned.

"Nah, just the four of us."

"You ever see this guy?" He placed an autopsy photo of Duncan Green on the table.

"Nope. And you ain't gotta hit me upside the head with a **rubber fish **or chicken or whatever it is you cops use to get peeps to spill the beans. I don't like lookin' at dead folks, and 'cause I don't know nothing else."

* * *

Britney Jones' pose was almost identical to the previous occupant in the interrogation room, both drummed their long nails against the table; however Britney's nail's were a neon pink as compared to the other woman's 'British Red Coat' red.

Sara entered the room and quietly placed the same autopsy photo on the table in front of the blonde woman.

"You ever seen him before?" Sara looked down at the woman as she stood above the woman's left shoulder for a moment, before Sara moved to the other side of the table to sit in the uncomfortable seat.

The woman picked up the picture, using only her pink nails and looked at the clean shaven head, and body that clearly showed the 'Y' incision of the dead youth. She gazed for a moment, slightly squinting at the image. Nearly two minutes passed before the woman spoke in a rush.

"Yeah, I was tricking on Lake Mead Boulevard and this old guy picks me up and the kid was in the back seat, but his hair was really curly. I always remember everything dealing with a customer, in case something bad happens. He's dead, huh?"

"Yes, his name was Duncan Green and the 'old guy' was his dad," Sara told her.

"He said his name was Harry, and that was certainly true: he had hair everywhere, even on his back. We dropped the kid off at the skatepark and then me and Harry went back to his hotel."

"What day was that?" Sara's voice was quiet, as she watched the woman first scratch her forehead and then lean slightly to the left, crossing her long legs in the opposite direction.

"Hmmm, let me see, on Friday, I went in for a check-up at the free clinic. It was before that. Thursday, I wasn't in Vegas cause I went up to Hiko on a call out with a long time customer. So, it musta been on Wednesday."

"Wednesday, April 9th?" Sara attempting to clarify the woman's statement.

"Yes."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"We dropped off the boy, the old man gave him two Benjamins, said, 'See you later, Dunk.", the boy said, "Later." He went into the building and I never saw him again, until you showed me that pic. Then the old man drove to pick up some whiskey and then we began our own transaction." Britney smiled at Sara.

The evidence validated what the woman was saying: the date on the receipt at the skatepark was dated on the 9th, the skateboard accessories totaled 142 dollars and there also had been a receipt from a McDonald's close to the park in Duncan's wallet, also dated on the 9th for two 'hot and spicies' and a large strawberry shake. And there had been 47 dollars left in the youth's wallet.

"The old man said he dropped the boy off on Friday, are you sure?" Sara looked into the brown eyes of the witness.

"Yes, I'm sure. Because when we stopped off at a store, he bought a case of Jack Daniels. If he drank all that, there's no wonder he doesn't remember what day it was. But at least I got a good memory for stuff like that."

"Anything else?" Sara inquired.

"I don't think so." Britney said.

"Thank you for your help in this matter."

The uniformed officer lead the woman back to her cell.

* * *

Gil Grissom and Al Robbins had just shared a meal at the diner near the crime lab. They were seated in a semi-comfortable booth, savoring their coffees.

"So, Gil, did you make the deadline?" Al asked with a slight grin on his face.

"What deadline?" Grissom was clearly confused.

"April 15th? You know, Gil, the tax deadline?" Al laughed at Grissom's apparent confusion.

"Yeah, I got to the post office on time, but all I did was file an extension. I have to get an accountant. Taxes are not my forte. I never knew that being married could seriously change a persons tax status."

"Welcome to married life, Gil."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 4: **Must start with the line:** Most men brought her roses. Only _he_ would think to bring her daisies. **Topic:** May Flowers. **Random Prompts (use or don't use - it's up to you):** dress, tuxedo, clown feet, border collie.

A/N 2: Thank you to csigeekfan for the EARLY prompts this week….And thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. I love your comments. Thanks to the Ramones. I used one of your songs without permission, so if you wanna sedate me, you can. :) And without BeckyCSI, I don't know how I would get anything that's canon, correct.

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

**Most men brought her roses. Only **_**he**_** would think to bring her daisies. **

Wendy Simms smiled as she walked into the DNA lab, where the arrangement sat, unexpectedly on her desk.

She had once confessed to a group of her co-workers while they had casually taken break that she thought daisies were far more romantic than roses.

And today, she had daisies awaiting her. The colorful bouquet of gerbera daisies were splashed in happy pinks, oranges, purples and yellows. It screamed "cheerfulness".

_Only he would think to bring her daisies. _As thoughts of the previous night permeated her brain, the man in question entered the DNA lab.

"Good morning, Miss Simms," he said quite cheerfully.

"Good morning, yourself, but I seem to recall that we have already exchanged morning pleasantries," she blushed.

"You are more than right, as usual, Miss Simms, but I do not think it's wise to exchange those type pleasantries here at the lab, although…." He slightly blushed at his own barb.

"I'll see you in the morning, after shift?" She questioned as he turned to leave.

"Most definitely," his thousand watt smile lit the room.

* * *

Sara loved it when Grissom dressed in a **tuxedo**; there was definitely something about that man when dressed such as he was now: standing before her looking like James Bond.

Gil loved it when Sara wore evening appeal; he admired her luscious curves as the **dress** clung to her, accentuating her very pregnant stomach; she looked very much like the mythological fertility goddess, Artemis.

They stared at each other hungrily, lustfully before Grissom spoke, "We really need to leave, now. We don't want to be late."

Sara smirked and unconsciously stroked her prominent stomach. "Are you sure about that?"

"Sara, we have all the time in the world to do what we are both thinking about right now, but darling, we really need to make at least an appearance at this function, then we can come home and…." he waggled his eyebrows at her.

She found that his suggestion had her thinking about things best kept private. "Yeah, I guess we should go. The Sheriff and the Undersheriff were both adamant for the two of us to attend this soirée."

"Sara, you know I don't like playing politics…"

"I know, but sometimes we have to." She touched his cheek with the palm of her hand, and he pulled her body as close to his as his son would allow. The kiss was short, but held the promise of things to come.

"Let go." He ushered her to their front door and led her carefully down the steps, then he opened the door of their blue Mercedes and helped her into the car.

They made good time to the ballroom at the Mirage, where this year's annual gala for the Benevolent Policemen's Ball; their car was whisked away by a young valet parking attendant and they entered the ballroom with pomp and circumstances becoming the situation.

"Dr. and Mrs. Gilbert A. Grissom, both of the Crime Lab, have now arrived." The voice was almost mechanical, but it carried over the din of noise, making sure everyone there was aware of their arrival.

Couples were dancing, as a big band played standards from the 1940's. The man who had announced them, escorted the pair to their table, where Grissom became uncomfortably aware they were seated at the same table as the Sheriff of Clark County, Nevada.

Sara was shocked to see someone sitting to the right of the Sheriff's wife, Melinda: it was the clerk from the skateboard shop that she had questioned only two days ago. He met her eye steadily as they were introduced. The young man did not share the same last name as the sheriff Sara realized or she would have asked him if he were related to her boss.

Sara sat down beside Cody Johnson, as Grissom took the place immediately to her right. Sara smiled at Cody, who stopped her before she could speak.

"Umm, I need to talk to you about something," he whispered into her ear.

His mother found the situation amusing. She thought her son, who was known to flirt with many girls and women, was crazy for chatting with the highly regarded CSI, who was pregnant with the well-known supervisor of the Crime Lab's child.

"Cody, son. Leave the Grissom's to enjoy the party." Melinda's voice was barely heard over the din of noise in the ballroom.

Cody turned to her mother and told her, "It's about that case I was telling you about, the tourist kid that was found floating at Lake Mead. She questioned me and I have some new info."

"Why didn't you go to your step-father about it?" Mrs. Atwater asked, motioning to her husband as the sheriff took her hand warmly into his.

Sheriff Atwater looked to his wife, "Honey, if Cody has information for the CSI's, then he should give the info to them, not me. I'm not even sure why CSI Grissom would be questioning him anyway."

Grissom began, "We had a floater out at Lake Mead this past Sunday night, it would found during our investigation that the young man had been dropped off by his father at the Sunrise Manor Skatepark and CSI Grissom here questioned your son in the course of our investigation."

"But I didn't realize he was your son." Sara interrupted her husband. Everyone at the table smiled at her apparent discomfort.

Cody came to her rescue, "Mrs. Grissom, I should have told you, but I didn't want to cause a commotion or anything, but I do have some interesting news for you, but if you feel the need for me to come down to the station for formal questioning, that's okay. I didn't really want to come to this, anyway." His laughed.

"Are you a suspect, now?" Sara asked.

"No, I just have more info than I did the last time we talked." Cody replied, as his parents looked at him curiously.

"Then let's go somewhere quiet and you can tell me, if my husband doesn't mind, then perhaps you'd like to dance?" Sara's eyes twinkled when she looked at her now flustered husband. He bowed his had down and nodded.

As Cody was helping Sara to her feet, the Sheriff unexpectedly said, "Watch out Sara, the boy has **clown feet, **so watch your toes when you dance."

Everyone laughed as the tension dissipated between the Atwater family and the Grissom family.

* * *

Sara recognized the tune as 'The Very Thought of You' as the young man gracefully held her in his arms, swaying to the music. The sound of Cody's voice strong against her ear; he wasn't whispering sweet nothings to her.

"I saw someone skating on the board Duncan bought. He comes to the park a good bit and he's a poser. His name is Eric Sinclair. He's friends with one of the guys on my skate team, Nick Wrigley. Nick's a good skater, Eric's a wannabe."

"How do you know it's the same board?"

"I guess you know when somebody's finger prints are the same or when somebody used the same gun to kill a bunch of people, because that's your job. Well, skating is mine. I know every brand name, every part, every board that I sell and that board was the one I sold to Duncan Green."

"I guess I need to find this Eric and see if he knows anything about Duncan. When does he come to the skatepark?"

"Nick is there everyday, in fact, he works for me when I have to go to balls to dance with beautiful pregnant women." Cody smiled at Sara; returned it, blushing somewhat. Cody continued, "I imagine Eric is there right now, too. He follows Nick around like he's god or something."

"Anything else?" Sara asked as the music and their dance was coming to a close.

"Well, Eric left the board on my counter in the shop as him and Nick were looking at the new _Emerica _shoes, we just got in. I noticed the board and remembered because I only shown you the receipt an hour or so before. I looked at the board to make sure. Well, Mrs. Grissom, can I call you Sara?" Sara nodded her head, 'yes' and Cody continued, "Sara, I think there was blood all over the board."

"Why didn't you call me with that information? I know I left you my card." She looked intently at the well dressed young man in a tuxedo, she thought Cody filled the suit out nicely, she quickly glanced at her husband who was engaged in conversation with the boy's step-father, but Grissom looked debonair.

"I forgot, because some little kid came in screaming wanting me to call his momma, cause he was hurt. The kid knocked the skateboard off onto the floor and I forgot about it until I saw you and your hubby come to our table."

* * *

The next morning when Sara met Cody at the skatepark, she was feeling a little drug out, because after the ball, Grissom had taken her home and shown her how much he truly loved her.

Cody had told her that Eric would more than likely show up there sometime that morning, so she'd brought Officer Mitchell with her, just in case.

Sara watched as Cody's **border collie**, Tristan, jumped around on his leash as Cody unlocked the door to the skateshop.

The park was already in operation, but the shop wasn't open yet. There were several kids milling about the door to the shop, noticing the uniformed policeman. Cody had greeted them all upon their arrival, ignoring their pointed looks at the policeman. Cody spoke to one of the boys, a dark haired child who appeared to be about 10, "Hey whimpie, where's your bro?"

"Him and that wank of his will be here soon," as the group of skaters made their way back to the concrete course that boasted of two half-pikes, a pool and a nice set of stairs with rails, steadfastly attempting to ignore the fact that the 'po-po' was there.

The music was blaring a band Sara recognized as she watched the skaters grinding to the sound of the Ramones.

"_Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated_

_Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated_

_Just get me to the airport put me on a plane_

_Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane_

_I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain_

_Oh no no no no no…"_

Cody laughed when he realized Sara was singing along to the Ramones. He watched her as she stood at the observation window that allowed a parent or other skaters to view the entire skate area.

She watched, fascinated as the skaters -- it surprised her to see several girls skating -- performing knee tucks, airwalks, backside flips, monkey flips, 180's and 360's. She didn't know what the tricks were called but she did enjoy watching them skate. She laughed when she saw a little boy of about five, perform a kickflip then promptly he fall on his bottom, grimacing.

Tristan came to stand next to Sara as she was mesmerized by the activity at the park. The dog clearly smelled Bruno's scent on her, as he nosed her clothing. Sara mindlessly petted the animal, as Cody prepared the shop to open to the public. Officer Mitchell stood, unobtrusively near the entrance to the store.

Nick Wrigley and Eric Sinclair walked into the skateshop and Cody brightly said, "Hey dudes, I want to you to met this chick that works for my step-dad. Her name is Sara and she's cool." Cody noticed Eric was carrying the Ali Boulala pink 'Flip' deck, with 'Tensor' trucks, 'Ricta' wheels and neon pink grip tape.

Both of the young men smiled at the woman who stood with her back to them. When she turned around, they saw her prominent belly.

Nick looked at Cody, "Dude, you're step-father knocked that girl up?"

"No dude. She just works for him." Cody laughed as Sara looked at them with an intense glare. She could see traces of blood along the lip of the skateboard.

She stepped toward Eric, "I'd really like to see your board, Eric."

He looked frightened and began to turn toward the door. Then Officer Mitchell made his presence known to the petrified youth. Mitch had his hand on his service revolver and the boy froze.

"I didn't kill him." Eric stammered.

Sara smiled, "I never said you did, but you have a dead boy's skateboard with blood along the edge. So that does make you a suspect. Mitch cuff him."

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 5: **Must start with the line:** "So, what are we supposed to be doing with the Mayo?" he asked. **Topic:** Cinco de Mayo **Random Prompts (use or don't use - it's up to you):** bug spray, broken toe, sneezes, guacamole, and fanfiction.

A/N 2: Thank you to** csigeekfan** for the prompts and to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. I love your comments. I apologize for this parody; it's really a short crappy chapter…I loaned out my muse and I guess she decided to stay there for a while, maybe she will come back soon, because I did wear her out with the Elemental Ficathon.

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"**So, what are we supposed to be doing with the Mayo?" he asked.**

Sara looked up at her husband; she was sitting on a stool at the end of the counter in their kitchen peeling red potatoes, letting the skins fall directly into the garbage can. "There are a few recipes that I was going to try out that called for mayonnaise, so do you have a problem with mayo?"

"No, but you bought five jars of the stuff," he looked over at her as he put various groceries into the pantry.

The sound of Sara's laugh never failed to make him smile, "I got cinco de may-o?" She snorted, placing the knife onto the counter, sliding off the stool and padding shoelessly to where Gil stood at the pantry door. As she reached him, reaching out to kiss him, he slammed the door closed, catching her little toe in the cross-fire.

"Damn, Gil, that hurt." The look belayed pain; she bent to her knees immediately and then sat unceremoniously on the floor. "You broke my toe."

He knelt down beside her and brought her toe to his mouth where he kissed it. He used his hands to explore the toe. She winced in pain. "I do believe you have a **broken toe**."

"Smart ass. Of course, it's broke. Isn't that what I just said?" She huffed.

"Honey, I didn't mean to do it." He looked at her, unsure if the pain in her toe was related to the pained expression on her face. "Honey?" She seemed to zone out on him. This scared him, "Honey? Are you okay?" He noticed her hands clutching at her stomach. "Is it the baby?"

Sara looked up at him, finally noticing him, "I think my contractions have started."

"Oh my God, Oh my God, let's go to the hospital." Grissom got up and began hurrying to the bedroom where he picked up her packed suitcase, ready for the hospital, he grabbed his keys, ran up the stairs and was in their car when he realized that Sara wasn't with him.

He ran back into their loft, down the stairs and she was still sitting on the floor at the pantry, looking pissed.

"Gilbert Grissom, you are a scientist, but you're acting like a stupid husband from a sitcom; Stop." She almost smiled at his expression, but the pain in her toe and the fact that she was 41 weeks pregnant did not deter her from trying to get up by herself.

Her OB/GYN, Barbara Hannegan, had told the couple she was going to induce labor on Monday, May 5th, if Sara hadn't delievered by then. And the geeks that they were, they went online and reviewed everything that could be found about 'Cinco de Mayo'.

"Honey, let me help you up," His voice wavering between concern and amusement.

"Get away from me," she said under her breath, as she had managed to roll onto her knees with her hands on the floor for support. She grabbed the knob on the pantry door and pulled herself up into standing.

He let out a sigh of relief, but was ill-prepared for her next assault.

"What is your problem? Here I am pregnant, by you no less, but you stand by helpless while I get off the floor with a broken toe, and you don't even try to help me. I should spray you with **bug spray**, maybe some common sense would saturate into your brain, if I sprayed it directly into your ear. What is with you?" She screamed, ranting.

He knew it was the hormones, but silence wasn't an option and he was really scared to answer her.

"Sara…" he began.

"Gilbert, you are a very stupid man, but I love you." Sara reached up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. They kissed, as another contraction hit her.

* * *

Greg and Nick were eating together at a Mexican restaurant before shift. They had been assigned the Grissom's case of the floater from Lake Mead. Not much physical evidence or any other evidence had been found. Sara had spoken to the owner of the skatepark and to the employees there, and some of the skaters. Brass had questioned some of the father's hookers, and the father of the dead boy, Duncan Green.

The only lead they'd had was one of the skaters at the park was now skating on the board that had been sold to the deceased, but upon questioning by Sara, the boy caved, saying that he'd never seen Green before, but had found the board outside the skatepark near a bus stop bench. Eric Sinclair knew Duncan was dead, but Sara could not get the boy to say anymore than he found the skateboard. The boy had been held by the police for as long as they had been able to, before he had been released.

They had nothing at this point.

Nick was eating a **guacamole** salad as Greg was having a bean burrito combo meal.

"Man, you better not pass any gas on the way to Overton Beach." Nick said between mouthfuls.

"Hey, I resemble that remark."

They both laughed.

Nick **sneezes** as he pulled his ringing cell phone out of his pocket.

"Stokes."

Greg watched a grin as big as Texas split Nick's face. "Man, thanks for calling."

Nick folded the cell phone and placed it back into his pocket. He looked at Greg and smiled again.

"Come on, Nick! What up?" Greg demanded.

"We're gonna be uncles soon."

Greg reached into his wallet, threw a twenty dollar bill onto the table, jumped up and was headed out the door, before he looked back at Nick.

"Come on, Nick! Geez, it's not everyday Sara has a baby. Let's get to the hospital."

"Lemme finish my tea, first." Nick stood up and drank down the entire glass of iced tea, then went to meet Greg at the door. "I'm driving to the hospital, you might kill us, Ricky Bobby."

* * *

David Hodges sat hunched over a laptop in the break room when Wendy walked in, he quickly closed it, when Wendy came over to see what he was doing.

With effort, attempting to stifle her laughter, she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," as he pushed the computer away from him.

Wendy grabbed the computer and began to run out the door with it. "I'm taking this to Archie to…"

He jumped up and ran toward her: "Wendy! Please don't. I'll tell you," Hodges whined.

She turned around and brought the computer back to the table.

Hodges breathed a sigh of relief, picking up the laptop and cradling it to his chest.

"Spill," She demanded.

"Okay, but only if you don't tell anyone." He whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye," her voice broke in amusement.

"You promise?" She nodded. David continued, "I was writing a **fan fiction **story."

"What's that?" she questioned.

"It's when a fan of a particular television series writes a short story about the show."

"What's the show?"

"'The Dukes of Hazard'. I've written 67 fanfics so far and this is my 68th. I publish them online under the name 'Spanky743' on a site named Dukes dot net." Hodges announced quite proudly.

Wendy gave him an open mouthed stare before saying, "You're weird, but I will go out with you tomorrow night."

His smiled his best thousand watt smile as she turned and left the room, shaking her head, as Hodges opened the laptop and began happily typing his story.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes**

**NOTES:** Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 6: **Must Start With:** He shivered in his soaked jacket as he walked down the highway. "You know, it was over eighty degrees and clear. How did we drop forty degrees, and _where_ did all this rain come from?" **Topic:** Strange Weather **Random Prompts:** physician, vomit, gray matter, cotton candy.

**A/N 2:** Thank you to **CSIGeekFan** for the prompts and to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. I love your comments. I'm without my computer, seems the dang thing bit the dust; my son's computer doesn't like me too much so this is sort of short. I'll get back to you guys as soon as I can if you happen to grace me with a review.

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

**He shivered in his soaked jacket as he walked down the highway. "You know, it was over eighty degrees and clear. How did we drop forty degrees, and **_**where**_** did all this rain come from?" **

"Well, you know what they say don't you?" Greg watched Nick's face contort into a grimace.

"No, Greg, what do they say?" he asked grumpily. They were scouring the side of the highway for possible evidence in a hit and run. The victim was deceased and unidentified and on his way to the morgue.

"You don't have to be a smart ass, I'm just making conversation to pass time." Greg pouted.

"I'm sorry, I'm just grumpy." Nick said. "What do they say?"

"If you don't like the **strange weather** in May, wait five minutes, it'll change." Greg smiled as the scowl on his friend's face morphed into a silly grin.

"Have you seen the baby since Sara and Grissom carried him home?" Nick asked as he bent down to place the yellow evidence marker '19' next to an unusual bit of evidence: it was a splintered piece of printed plywood.

Sanders leaned in to photograph the evidence with the Nikon digital camera, "No, I haven't gone to the Grissom's residence. It kind of intimidates me though: going to Grissom's house on a social visit. It would creep me out if he had chocolate covered bugs in a dish on the coffee table."

"Geez Greg, Sara lives there too, it's not like she'd let him keep edible bugs in the house; she's a vegetarian and bugs are sort of meat, I would think, so not a problem. Our little nephew is in some serious need of his uncles coming over for a little man time. We could go over and Griss and Sara could go out for a while."

"Hey, that sort of looks like the wood that skateboards are made out of. You remember before Sara had Junior and we took over their case of the dead skater who ended up a floater?" Nick nodded and Greg continued, "We were coming up near here for that case to see if we could find some physical evidence at Overton Beach and we never made it?" Nick nodded again, "I think we just found some evidence in that case, hopefully the two cases will be tied together."

The two men didn't say much as they followed the trail of various evidence in a generally easterly direction along Nevada State Highway 573 as the traffic cops rerouted traffic for the two CSI's.

* * *

Their **physician **had told them it would be okay for all of the family to go on the ride formerly known as the Manhattan Express roller coaster, if the machinery was not in operation; however if only Grissom chose to ride, then Sara and the baby could wait at the Coney Island Pavilion, because there were no child care facilities at the New York, New York.

"After all Gil, you have to be 54 inches tall to ride and your young son here is 33 short at the moment." Barbara Hannagan, their OB-Gyn, shared Grissom's affinity for roller coasters and had challenged him to ride the old fashioned wooden coaster in New Orleans.

"Barbara, we would love to go to New Orleans, but I hear the humidity is horrible," Gil had replied.

"Just don't go in the summer or the fall. They have a different kind of heat than we do here in Vegas, it's horrible. I spent a little time there before 'Katrina' and it was a wonderful city full of beautiful greenery, mysterious places, and the blues." The woman said with a twinkle in her eye, as she looked at the new mother holding her now week old son, "Now, as for Mrs. Grissom here, Sara, we should start you on birth control pills to help regulate your periods after your pregnancy."

Sara shook her head in assent, but as she did so, Gilbert, Jr. took that opportunity to **vomit** down the back of his mother's shirt. His father artfully dodged the spewed baby formula as he grabbed a couple of towels from their baby blue carry-all and wrapped the young man in it, he handed the other towel to Sara without a word as she seamlessly removed her outer shirt as she had a ribbed spaghetti strapped teddy on underneath.

Dr. Hannagan watched as the couple cleaned up in perfect harmony. "Are you sure the two of you have never had kids before?" They both looked at her with vague expressions of amusement, "You two work together wonderfully, like a team."

Gil laughed, "Of course, we've worked on the same team for eight years."

Sara cleaned her blue vertical striped button up, as Grissom cooed with his son. She stopped what she was doing and it seemed like the whole world disappeared as she watched her husband with the adorable baby boy they had made together. It seemed so surreal, this new life they shared.

"It doesn't take a lot of **gray matter **to see the two of you are crazy about your new addition." Hannagan smiled at the couple and the new born.

The Grissom's all smiled back at her.

Soon afterward, Grissom was driving down the South end of the Strip in his blue Mercedes and made a right turn into the side street to enter the parking garage of the New York, New York hotel and casino. He looked over at Sara and then glanced in the rear-view mirror to look at his baby boy safely tucked in the car seat. He reached his hand over to Sara and they rested their joined hands on her left thigh.

"Thank you, Sara for letting me come ride a coaster. It's been too long." He glanced over to her and smiled.

She returned the smile, "I guess the baby and I will have some **cotton candy** while we wait on you."

Several minutes later, Grissom flashed his laminated pass for the ride to the attendant. He could see his little family from his vantage point and he was happy. He could see Sara speaking intently to their baby. He briefly wondered what she was saying.

Sara was lamenting the fact that although she was the one who had studied physics in college, it was her husband who enjoyed the thrill of the loops, hills and corkscrews of the mammoth machine.

The coaster took off and soon achieved it's maximal speed of 67 miles per hours as Grissom braced himself on the bar to his taxi-cab inspired cart. He could see the marvelous view of the city in which he lived, as the chain lift pulled him closer to the first of the many loops, Grissom let loose his first scream that cleansed his soul. He pictured his family as everything else faded from his mind.

**TBC**

**A/N 3:** I know I haven't written much on the case file for this in a while, hopefully my prompts for next week will help me get back to it and maybe my own computer will be repaired, so I don't have to use this dreadful new-fangled POS anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 7: **Must Start With:** She stared at the disaster spread across the lawn and thought, "Well, it could be worse. The party could've been _inside_ the house." Of course, she hadn't been inside yet. **Topic:** Birthdays **Random Prompts:** children, cake, clowns, water balloons.

A/N 2: Thank you to CSIGeekFan for the prompts; you certainly didn't make things easy, did you? LOL. And due to technical glitches this was posted a day later than anticipated.

A/N 3: To everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter, because it's back to the case file for the most part.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

**She stared at the disaster spread across the lawn and thought, "Well, it could be worse. The party could've been **_**inside**_** the house." Of course, she hadn't been inside yet. **

Sara stood looking at all the **children **running about merrily shooting water guns and throwing **water balloons**; the remnants of a birthday **cake** with a shaped number 6 candle laying on the table, the two fully outfitted **clowns** making cute little animals with long balloons in assorted colors, that were scattered, intact and popped, across their backyard. She breathed very deeply, trying to steady her nerves. She hoped she had a Valium left in the medicine cabinet.

Gil Jr. was the birthday boy; who's formerly large sheet cake that had read: 'Happy Birthday, Bugsy". Little Gil was a miniature version of his father with full beard and gray curly hair; he was being hoisted into the air by several of his honorary uncles, first Bobby from ballistics, then Henry from tox, then Hodges from trace.

She watched as her still handsome and very virile husband was busy pouring what appeared to be blood red kool-aid into cups designed with the motif of "Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles". Most, if not all the children were standing quietly in line waiting for his concoction as he morphed into a vampire type caricature, with long white fangs against the corners of his gray lips.

He felt her gaze upon him and smiled up at her. She didn't return the gesture because a gang of the children formerly in line for the bloody drink suddenly herded her against her will toward the huge oak tree that appeared out of nowhere into her back yard. Sara struggled for breath as the children began to tie her up to a tree with a heavy corded white rope.

One of the children looked suspiciously like Natalie Davis, and it was the Natalie miniature who placed the silver duct tape over her mouth as the other children ran in circles around the tree, singing '_ring around the roses, pocket full of posies',_ tightening Sara against the bark of the tree; harder and harder they pushed her into the tree, she could feel the bark hard against her thighs. She was hyperventilating so badly she could hardly catch her breath…

Sara woke up with a startled gasp, struggling for air.

Gil was on top of her sound asleep, naked as usual. He was hard against her as he slept.

She had found it amusing that when she first shared a bed with the esteemed entomologist that he had slept in the nude for most of his life; he wasn't in the least bit ashamed of the fact and informed her tactlessly he wasn't changing his ways because of her. Secretly, she had never wanted him to change anything. She loved him as he was and a naked Grissom was a delight to her senses.

She easily shifted from under him and slid out, making her way to the bathroom. After she had finished, she tiptoed into the baby's room; he looked so peaceful, sleeping in his crib; their sweet little bundle of joy. She quickly checked for a wet diaper, but found it dry.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood over the crib for a long time, silently promising him that they would never call him 'Bugsy', then just watched the little boy sleep. She finally made her way back to Grissom and their bed.

Gil woke up for a moment, sleep still matting his eyes. He saw that Sara stood looking down at him with a sad expression on her face. He reached his hand for her, pulling her to him.

The nightmare had faded from her mind as he reached to kiss her lightly on the forehead. Sara crawled under the covers beside him and fell asleep immediately, safe within his arms.

* * *

"Gil, would you bring me that case we were working on before I went on leave?" Sara asked over the breakfast bowl of cereal she was eating while breastfeeding the baby.

"The skateboarder that floated?" Grissom asked his wife, knowing she felt trapped by her maternity leave. It had been two weeks. He was happy she had lasted this long without asking for some cold case file to study. He knew she wasn't unhappy with the baby, he realized she just missed her former life as a CSI and interactions with other intelligent adults.

"I think I should go back out to the skate park and talk to Cody, if you think it's okay." Sara looked up into his eyes pleading.

"I'll bring home the file in the morning, dear and you can go over it, but if you go out to the park, then I better go with you, since I assisted you in the original case." He smiled at the looks she gave him, first a smile, then a frown, then a smirk. "I can keep the little one occupied while you ask questions." Then he leaned down and kissed the mother of his only child.

* * *

"That's Eric Sinclair, one of the guys I had brought in to the station for questioning. He was a bust, but I think he knew more than he let on. The guy in the tight pants is Nick Wrigley, a member of Cody's skate team. I think he knows something, too, but he plays his cards closer to his chest than his buddy Eric." Sara pointed out the huge window overlooking the skate park to the two young men who stood apparently talking to one another holding their boards close to their chests. "Hey Cody?" Sara called.

Tristan, the skateboarding dog, looked up as his master left the couch and slowly padded barefoot to where the Grissom's were standing. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Eric is holding another skateboard." She looked pointedly at Grissom, "Didn't we take the other board in as evidence?" He nodded in the affirmative as the baby belched while he patted his back. Sara looked to Cody Johnson, "How many boards do these guys go through in a month?"

"The serious ones can break a board in an afternoon, from the stress of the tricks or because the materials in a given board are poor in quality, for instance, say one from Wal-Mart, but the professional boards we sell, usually last about two to three weeks, given a skater who skates all the time to about a year or more, for the novices or the really small kids."

A teenaged girl wearing a white t-shirt with a green logo and pink shorts approached the two young men. She had her mid length auburn hair tied up in a ponytail and Sara noticed the girl walked straight up to Nick and invaded his personal space.

The tall black haired youth backed away from the girl, but she practically bear hugged him.

Eric, on the other hand, appeared happy to see the girl, but she ignored him completely.

Nick then boarded his skateboard and rolled off toward the bank of ramps.

The girl had a perplexed look on her face as Eric tried to initiate a conversation with her. As she turned to go, Eric caught her by the shoulder and the girl stopped to listen what he had to say.

Sara watched the heated exchange between the two teenagers from their vantage point in the skate shop, as Cody explained the difference between types of skateboards. She interrupted his speech, "Who is that girl," pointing to the figure who was walking toward the refreshment center, with Eric in tow.

"That's trouble. She's a poser and a wannabe skater, but she's never even stood on a board that I know of. I think she sells something to some of my customers, but I'm not sure if it's drugs or herself." Cody Johnson replied.

"Do you know her name?" Gil asked from where he still stood looking out over the skate park, holding his namesake.

Cody looked at Gil, "They call her 'V'. That's all I know."

"Thanks for all your help, Cody." Sara said taking the baby from Grissom. Sara cradled the baby, then kissed the little boy on the forehead.

"NP." Cody scratched the dog on the back of his neck and settled back down onto the couch. "If you need anything else, I'll be in an executive meeting."

Sara and Grissom laughed at their boss' stepson's humor, having heard the Sheriff utter than phrase on more than one occasion.

They left as Cody closed his eyes after stretching out on the well used couch, with Grissom taking back Gil and placing him in the baby sleepy wrap against his chest. Sara followed her two men out the door, shutting it quietly behind her, when she turned around, she ran directly into Eric Sinclair.

"Whoa, lady. I ain't going to the hoosegow again, am I? Not good for my street 'cred either. 'Cause I didn't do nothing then or now." Eric laughed under his breath.

"Eric, can you tell us anything about that girl you were talking to a little while ago?" Grissom inquired.

"She is so cool; her name is 'V', but if you ask me anything else I'm gonna have to call my lawyer and he's on speed dial number one," he said as he flipped out his cell phone.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Sinclair," Sara smirked as she began to walk toward the girl in question.

Eric glared at Sara, before walking off toward the parking lot.

As she approached the girl, Sara noticed the white t-shirt bore the phrase: _McGuire's Irish Pub and Bar, in Pensacola, Florida since 1977. _"That's an interesting coincidence, if there is such a thing," she thought to herself.

Sara addressed the girl: "Are you from Florida or go there recently on vacation?"

The girl grimaced, "What?" with a very hostile glare in the way of one Sara Sidle-Grissom.

Sara nodded to her apparel, "That shirt you have on now. Where did you get it?"

"Ain't none of your business, bitch," as the girl known as 'V' butted around Sara and headed to the parking lot.

Grissom had watched the entire exchange and raised his eyebrows in amusement at the open mouthed Sara stood watching the girl disappear into the sunset.

* * *

Greg Sanders sat on the couch, holding his godchild in the crook of his arm while 'Mythbusters' played on the big screen television in the Grissom's loft. Sara was downstairs preparing lunch in the very modern spacious kitchen.

As Sara brought up the tray of sandwiches and chips, she noticed that the baby and Greg were both sound asleep. She sat the tray down on the coffee table and tapped Greg's shoulder slightly as to not disturb the sleeping child.

Greg opened one eye to Sara, then stretched the arm that wasn't cradling the baby and looked around the room, sleepily.

Sara stood smirking down at him, "You look good with a baby. You have any prospects for a mother to go with a baby?"

Greg laughed out loud, "There's this one girl I've been seeing, well, let's just say she's a charmer."

Sara said soberly, "You really need someone to help combat the things we see in our job." She smiled then and added, "When's the book being published?"

"The printing should start in a couple of weeks, but I've not seen the gallies yet, so I'm not real sure," he looked a little lost.

Sara changed the subject: "This case is just plain weird. We can't figure out how the Green kid got from skating at the skate park to being dead in Lake Mead. He was found in the Lake by a park ranger on the 11th of April. There's no evidence other than a 'McDonald's' receipt dated on the 9th of April. His cell phone had never been found, but no calls or texts since the 9th." Sara took a deep breath.

Greg looked first at the baby sleeping soundly in his arms and then to Sara as she continued.

"Nobody seems to care about Duncan Green. His father is indifferent. Mother is dead. The hookers didn't really care in the least and the skaters either know something or don't, but none of them are talking. It's like he as a ghost, his entire life. It's sad, no one cared about him, even in death."

"Well, in the hit and run Nick and I had, we did find some evidence of Duncan's skateboard that matched the board that was taken into evidence from the Sinclair kid. It was along Highway 573 which is the most direct way from the park to the lake."

Sara begins to talk her conjecture as she sees it in her mind: "Duncan gets dropped off by his father and the hooker. He buys a board , skates for a while, probably skates down the street to the McDonald's for some food. He's away from home and gets lost; goes in the wrong direction toward the lake instead of the skate park. Something happens to his skateboard, splintering it, maybe a car ran him off the road."

The baby hiccupped in his sleep, startling Greg and Sara. When Gil appeared still sleeping, Sara continued in a lowered tone of voice: "The car stopped on the side of the road, Duncan gets in and takes him to Overton Beach were his body is found three days later. COD: massive blunt force trauma to the head. There is too big of a gap in there that we don't know anything about where he went, what he did, who he talked to, when did he sleep, if he slept at all, before he slept with the fishes."

Greg laughed. "I didn't know you liked 'The Sopranos'.

"What?" Sara looked at him with apparent lack of knowledge as to what he was referring.

"Never mind, maybe we can get some info from some of his friends or family back in Florida." Greg mentioned.

"Brass has spoken to a Detective Gene Gonzalez in the Pensacola PD who have questioned family members, neighbors and schoolmates of Duncan Green. Just a few tidbits of info, but not much: 1. Duncan worked at McGuire's Irish Pub as a busboy for six months before his death. 2. His father reported he wore his 'McGuire's' t-shirt on the last day he saw him, but he wore a shirt bearing the words "Get Lucky" which is a reference to a skateboard product. 3. His best friend from home, a Charles Barnette, 21, of Gulf Breeze, FL reported that his younger sister came up missing and reportedly is in Vegas, Viola Barnette, 16, listed as missing by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement since July 24th, 2007 and according to the detective, Charles reported that Duncan was going to try to look her up while he and his father were here in town."

"So is she the girl you talked to this morning? The 'V' girl?" Greg questioned.

"I don't know if she's Viola Barnette, but she is definitely a person of interest."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

See Chapter One for Disclaimer and Other Notes

NOTES: Weekly CSIPrompts Challenge 8: **Must Start With:** She watched as he walked between headstones, until he stopped and bowed his head before pushing into the ground a small American flag. **Topic:** Memorial Day. **Random Prompts:** 21 gun salute, salute, flags, picnic.

A/N 2: Thank you to **CSIGeekFan **for the prompts. And I cheated a little bit with this chapter, I wrote the majority of it before receiving the prompts. And fitting in the prompts proved to be slightly difficult. The christening scene is from my memory, so sorry, if it's not exactly word for word.

A/N 3: It was fun, but it's really time to end this story. Hope you enjoyed it. I'll start a new story next week with the new prompts.

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

**She watched as he walked between headstones, until he stopped and bowed his head before pushing into the ground a small American flag, **then she watched as the credits to the movie were replaced by another ad for the next movie in the '**Memorial Day** Marathon': A **21 gun salute **over a casket as the band played 'Taps', **flags **flying at half-mast for the fallen heroes who lost their lives so that Americans could remain free.

Sara snuggled in closer to her husband, believing he was asleep, however his nibble fingers began to play with her exposed skin between her sleeping pants and the cropped top she wore.

"Hey!" She said brightly when his hand moved higher.

He stopped his movements and sighed. "Sara…" he began, removing his hand and then running the same hand over the texture of his beard.

"No, Gil I didn't mean for you to stop. I was surprised you were awake, I thought you nodded off during 'Saving Private Ryan'." Sara reached for his hand and placed it on her hip.

"No, I couldn't sleep through that movie. Did I ever tell you that my father fought there at Normandy beach on D-Day?"

"I don't believe you did," she snuggled in closer.

"I was named after one of his war buddies, Gilbert Arthur, from Chicago. My dad was slightly older than most of the recruits and he and Gilbert shared a pup tent at Camp Shelby in Mississippi before being deployed to England to await the Invasion. Gilbert met a WAC there at Camp Shelby, where some Women's Army Corp were trained also. He fell madly in love. Before they were deployed, Gilbert and the woman married; my father was their best man. It was the winter of 1943. Gilbert and Anna Belle only shared one night together, but they stayed in contact as well as a couple could during wartime."

Grissom paused.

Sara was entranced.

"So, then came D-Day and Gilbert was killed by German artillery fire. My father lost his best and only friend that beach in France. He told me later, it was the only time he'd ever cried as an adult."

Sara, herself, was beginning to feel tear drops roll down her face.

"My father survived Normandy and the Invasion of Germany, made it through the War alive, and returned to his home in Los Angeles. He went back to school on the GI bill and got a degree in teaching, then taught high school Botany. In 1950, he went to Chicago to talk to Gilbert Arthur's family, where he found much to his surprise, Anna Belle, Gilbert's widow, living with his family."

Sara reached for the remote control to the TV and switched it off. She also listened for a time to the baby monitor, but the baby still slept, but she never lost track of the story Gil was telling her.

"Anna Belle had gotten pregnant the only night they'd shared together and thought it best to raise the child with his father's family in Chicago, because her family never truly believed she'd married a soldier and soon after became a widow. The boy was now a six and a half year old and the spitting image of his father."

"My dad then met the younger sister of his best friend, Melanie, an artist, who became my mother. They quickly married in Chicago and moved together to Marina Del Rey where my father continued teaching and my mother an artistic housewife."

He breathed a sigh, before continuing, "They were so good together and when I came along, there was no question as to my name."

"We lived together for a few years, before my father died watching a baseball game on the television of a heart attack. I was playing with some beetle on the floor beside the couch when he died. I never understood why…." Tears flowed easily down his face.

Sara pulled him closer and began kissing each tear that fell. They stayed together, wrapped in each other's arms for most of that day. Moving only when Gil Jr. awoke and made his presence known.

* * *

Viola Barnette was arrested the next day on a charge of prostitution by an undercover vice officer near the skate shop.

While in custody, she exchanged some incriminating information to a cell mate, named Tananda Richardson, 19, also up on a charge of prostitution.

Richardson told 'V' confidentially that being "_being a teenage 'ho in 'Vegas wasn't no **picnic **at the p_ark" and "_if you didn't use a pimp, then you probably wouldn't last too long, and if you wanted to go big time you needed to work at the Kitty Ranch, but then you had to be 21 to work at there. But the best place to get johns was always on the strip." _

In exchange for Tananda's information, 'V' told her something that left the slightly older working girl with a new advantage. If Richardson was shocked by what the other had confessed, she didn't show it, but later she thought it might be beneficial for her to report it to her public defender who used to info to persuade the judge to allow Tananda to plead to a lesser charge of solicitation.

Soon, the same public defender had more than he could handle with two charges of murder in the first degree. He had barely passed the bar exam and happily defended whore and drunks, murder was way over his head. He passed the case on to another public defender who made a practice to defend murderers: Adam Novak.

* * *

Viola sat unruffled beside her attorney. Grissom walked in with Brass.

"Evening, Detective Brass and Dr. Grissom." Novak said. "I must ask, is CSI Willows associated in any way with this investigation?" Clearly directing his question to Grissom.

"No."

"Then we may proceed."

Brass threw two case files on the opaque table, sliding toward the suspect. He then sat down and his fingers interlacing as his elbows hit the table and looked at the young woman in question.

Viola stared at Grissom, trying to recall where she'd seen him before. She elbowed her lawyer, whispering but somewhat loudly. "Who's Willows and I've seen him somewhere before," pointing to Grissom.

"Willows is a CSI that works for him and I've had some dealings with her: some good, some not so good. And Supervisor Grissom is on the television frequently doing press conferences and the like for cases the Las Vegas Crime Lab and the Clark County Sheriff's Department have handled. You might know him from that." Novak's voice could only be heard by the accused.

"No," she practically shouted, "I've seen him this week at the skate park, but I think he was carrying a baby around."

"That's right, Miss Barnette, my wife and I were investigating the death of Duncan Green. He was last seen alive at the skate park on State Highway 573 on April the ninth. His body was found three days later in Lake Mead. My wife was the lead CSI on the case; however she is now on Family Medical Leave and the two of us where at the skate park talking to our friend, Cody Johnson. I do believe you were especially rude to my wife that day." Grissom looked over his rectangular glasses at the girl.

"She was such a bitch, asking me about my t-shirt. She didn't say she was a cop. Isn't that against the law? She looked at Novak, who looked at Grissom then Brass. Viola ran her purple nail tips through her shoulder length auburn hair.

"What were the circumstances? Did Mrs. Grissom attempt to interrogate you without an adult present?"

"All she said was 'Are you from Florida?' and 'Where did you get that shirt?' But I blew her off like she was nothing and daddy boy there stood watchin' the whole thing." She threw an angry look toward Grissom.

"Did you answer any of their questions?" Adam prodded his client.

"No, I blew the bitch off." Viola said triumphal.

"Let's get back to the matter at hand. CSI's Grissom and Grissom didn't find out any substantial information at the skate park that day, but your cell mate ratted you out. Said you killed two guys, Duncan Green and John Coltrane. The CSI's got a warrant for your vehicle and found blood evidence that matched the two dead boys in your trunk." Brass looked in the girl's eyes the entire time he spoke.

"I don't own a car." She said.

"The car is listed as owned by one Charles Barnette, your brother. And your fingerprints all over the interior and exterior of the 1992 Honda Accord, especially on the steering wheel. There are also fingerprints belonging to Eric Sinclair. His prints are limited to the passenger side and two prints in the trunk where the blood evidence was found."

"I didn't kill Dunc." She said.

Adam Novak suddenly broke in, "What else do you have?"

"We have a bloody skateboard that was in trunk that was confiscated from Eric Sinclair when he was brought in for questioning several weeks ago. The blood matched Green's, so we believe the deceased was struck over the head with the skateboard and he died from blunt force trauma to his skull. Then we think Sinclair and Miss Barnette dumped the body in Lake Mead." Grissom read from the file.

He began again, "Coltrane's body was discovered and ruled a hit and run. CSI's Sanders and Stokes were on that case and Coltrane's DNA and blood was found on the right bumper of the Accord with Miss Barnette's fingerprints. Also Sanders and Stokes matched the broken head light on the Accord to glass found in the victim's wounds."

Viola looked at Novak, "Can I tell ya'll what really happened?"

Novak nodded. "Can she plea bargain?"

Brass replied, "That'll be up to Mattie, she's the DA on this one."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to accommodate us." Adam nodded to his client and she looked at the table during her confession.

"Okay, Eric killed Duncan. Hit him upside the head with his skateboard. Eric thinks he's in love with me but I like his friend Nick who likes Mia. So Duncan had almost talked me into going home to my folks. Dunc said that I could catch a ride home with him and his ole man. But Eric said he wasn't letting me go. Well, I was kinda messed up on some meth, can I say that without getting in trouble?" She looked at Novak.

"You already did, kiddo," with a slight smirk. Adam shook his head.

"Did Nick Wrigley have anything to do with Duncan's death?" Grissom asked the girl and she continued to comb her dark lavender nails through her hair.

"No, Nick don't have much to do with us. I like him, but he's already got a chick-on-his-stick. I tried, I really did, but he just didn't like me," she reported sadly.

Brass injected, "Can we get back to the story, please?"

Novak sent a dirty look in Brass' direction, but Viola returned to her story.

"Anyways, Eric clunked him over the head and Dunc was dead. We was at the McDonald's there close to the park when it happened. Don't guess anybody paid any attention to us. So then, me and Eric hauled him into the trunk and I drove out to Overton Beach. It was cloudy and rainy that day, so no one was there. Then, we hauled Dunc's body to the water and it just sort of lays there, you know? I thought the tide would take it out, but then Lake Mead's tide isn't as strong as the Gulf of Mexico either." She paused for a breath.

"Then Eric found this boat up the beach from where we were and we put Dunc in. Eric drove the motorboat and then we dumped the body over the side 'Tony Soprano' style."

Brass and Novak shared a laugh at the illusion, but Grissom was clueless.

"Now, the Coltrane dude was all accident. I was messing with him. He said he wanted to buy…" she looked at Novak, again with a questioning look, "some stuff from me, but then he got it, got his rocks off then he didn't pay for it. So I revved up my engine and thought I'd scare him a bit, like I was gonna run over his ass, but instead of revving, the car shot forward and I did run over him, then I got out of the car and went to him, but he was dead. I opened the trunk and threw out some of his stuff that he'd asked me to put in my trunk. I was scared and so, I drove off."

The public defender, the homicide detective and CSI all eyed the girl.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? I just killed him by mistake and if I called the cops, then I woulda gone straight to jail."

"If it were an accident like you said, then it was accident. But leaving the scene of a crime is against the law. Hit and Run is against the law." Grissom replied.

The uniformed officer cuffed the girl and lead her out of the room.

Adam looked at Grissom, "Catherine told me about the baby, congratulations."

"Thank you. You and Catherine are invited to the christening. Jim, I'll see you at St. Joseph's, later. Don't be late."

Brass** saluted **Grissom in a gesture clearly indicating that he would follow orders as he left the room to attempt to find Eric Sinclair. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, dialing his favorite judge for a warrant.

Novak left the interrogation room headed out to look for his favorite CSI.

And Grissom rounded the corner to the recessed area where someone could watch an interrogation without being seen from inside to slide into his wife's arms.

"Well, we will have justice for Duncan Green. Poor boy, never got to live his life and a short misspent life it was." Sara murmurred into his shoulder.

* * *

Sara and Gil Grissom held in his namesake and namesake of his uncle dressed in a white belted romper while the priest anointed him.

They had considered and debated whether their son's faith could be controlled and directed by them. Sara didn't feel the ceremony was necessary, but Gil had insisted. He believed that parents can "dedicate" a child to "Christendom", but the infant as an adult is a unique soul of the person's own faith and decisions independent of their parents and others, that faith was a strictly personal decision.

"What name have you chosen for this child." The old priest intoned.

"Gilbert Arthur Grissom, Jr." Sara proudly announced as she stared first into her husband's eyes, then the child that had captured her heart from the beginning and finally to the priest's tired eyes.

"So be it. We christen thee Gilbert Arthur Grissom, Jr., in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. I christen you that you may know the pure and holy spirit of God, your eternal source of faith. May you come to know God within your heart all the days of your life and express your highest potential in Christian service."

Gil and Sara, as Parents of this child, will you teach Gilbert Arthur Grissom, Jr., the truth that from this moment that he may realize his unity with God and of Christian doctrine, the gospel ministry and of the salvation by grace through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ? Will you try to conduct your own life so that by both word and example, Gil, Jr., may learn to live joyously and harmoniously with Christian principle and the assurance of salvation - will you strive to do this to the best of your ability?"

They answered together, "We do."

"Jim and Catherine, as Godparents to Gilbert Arthur Grissom, Jr., God will give you the wisdom and ability to hold within your heart forever the spiritual welfare of this child. You are charged with the responsibility of seeing to the spiritual welfare of this child should the need arise and it is you who stands as spiritual counselors. Do you accept this duty and charge?"

Brass and Willows answered as one, "We do."

"Do you promise to love, honor, support and encourage the child throughout his life?"

"We do," again they answered as one, smiling at the proud parents of said child.

After the ceremony, Catherine and Adam Novak disappeared with Lindsey. Wendy and Hodges actually walked out holding hands. Mandy and Nick tried not to let the others notice the longing looks and sexual tension between them. Brass left with remaining crew CSI's and lab rats from the night-shift to share an over-due dinner at the diner. Sheriff Atwater and family headed to the country club and the Grissom's went home together.

* * *

THE END

* * *

Author's Final Note: All my love goes out to 94 year old Luther Lee for allowing me to use parts of his life story: he was the model for Grissom's dad and a veteran of D-Day Invasion and the European battles in WWII. Luther said the most realistic movies about the war was 'Saving Private Ryan' and the mini-series 'Band of Brothers'. Thank you Luther!


End file.
